


pink convelescence

by moasis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, at least, chapters with wildly varying lengths, eventual angst, eventually, gender neutral reader, it was supposed to be much faster, sort of, very slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11036760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moasis/pseuds/moasis
Summary: When the sunlight glints across his eyes, for a moment they flash pink —pink like petals, pink like the rawness scratching in your lungs— and for the first time in a long while, you find yourself stunned by the sight of Genji Shimada.





	1. Chapter 1

Gibraltar is quiet this early in the morning — as quiet as it ever gets, at least. Agents, mechanics, and scientists alike are undoubtedly shuffling about inside the walls of the Watchpoint, a collective combination of coffee and some unspoken force keeping life thrumming through its halls at all hours. But you've managed to escape your workstation for a short while, and you have only been out on the rocks for about twenty minutes when the whir of servos alerts you to a breach in your solitude.

“Have you been out here long?” you ask lightly into the morning air. For all of his mechanical whirring, Genji is still as silent as the grave. There is a chance he has only just arrived at the outcrop, but the number of times he has startled you at your station leads you to believe otherwise. You can’t help but wonder if you are being _allowed_ to hear the metallic click of his approaching footsteps.

“Only a few minutes,” the cyborg replies as he comes to stand next to you. You glance up the line of his body until you meet the plate covering his lower face, and catch the eyes resting just above it. Pointedly shifting your gaze to the patch of rock at your side, you pat at it with your hand in clear invitation. Genji gives you an unimpressed look, but ultimately kneels down without mulling it over for long. “I did not think there would be anyone else out here at this hour.”

You hum to yourself and look back out at the Mediterranean. “Usually, there isn’t.”

The comment isn’t meant to be a jab at Genji’s presence, merely a recognition of what little free time you have nowadays. Things have been getting tense in Overwatch recently, and your workload has suffered noticeably for it. Blueprints from headquarters seem to cross your desk everyday, stacked alongside countless equipment recalls, work-orders for tech repairs, and the occasional inquiry for input on a new design. The memory of one specific set of schematics swims to the forefront of your thoughts. You realize now is as good a time as any to broach the subject of the upgrades. Something about the quietness of the rock makes it seem better suited to the conversation than your workbench would be.

“Dr. Ziegler sent in updated refs for the synthetic musculature around your jaw,” you start slowly, still looking out at the water. It is a dark, swaying expanse beneath your feet, but as the sun begins to make itself known, the waves are lightening from black to sapphire where they touch the horizon. Genji does not respond to this first statement, so you continue on. “Actually, she sent in more than just mandible sketches — there are digital mockups for a full-body refit, something too big to be completed here in Gibraltar. You’d have to return to headquarters for this kind of upgrade.”

Despite the fact that you have easily come to terms with Genji’s status as a cyborg, you know for a fact that a large portion of the world would not be so understanding. Overwatch knows this, too. There is enough residual fear from the Omnic Crisis to keep people at best wary and at worst hostile when they come across anyone even remotely robotic. Pair Genji’s physical attributes with the not-so-physical but highly-likely-chance of becoming a Blackwatch agent, and you’ve got a chew toy for the media and a new scapegoat for the UN. Keeping him out of the spotlight that’s on Zürich seems like the safest course of action, for everyone involved.

For now, Watchpoint: Gibraltar has taken custody of Overwatch’s resident ninja while his situation gets worked out by the organization’s higher ups.

In the two months that you have spent as Genji’s assigned technician, you have made peace with the fact that he is a man of few words, and one without much conviction towards anything save his personal interests. You don’t have the clearance needed to fully explain who he is, or _why_ he is, but you know enough to allow him these vices. While you would certainly like to make a friend of Genji Shimada, you understand him enough to know that this may be wishful thinking.

Genji tilts his head towards you in acknowledgement, but he, too, keeps his gaze on the water. “I know,” he says after a minute. Your brows draw together in confusion and you frown as though you want to ask a question, ask just _how_ he knows. But you wait, and are rewarded with an elaboration. “Commander Reyes contacted me this morning, just before I came out here. He says I am to return tomorrow, to begin work with Dr. Ziegler.”

You nod slowly to yourself as you accept this information. It makes sense that they would tell him personally, or even tell him first, given your low level of clearance. Still, despite how you acknowledge Genji’s self-reclusion, you were hoping to use this as a chance to talk to him a little more than usual. Now however, you merely sit on the cliffside in what could be mistaken for companionable silence, watching as light bleeds into the world little by little.

An audible vibration picks up in one of Genji’s systems, and you intend to ignore it along with the rest of this conversation, until he utters something that makes you look away from the sea.

“Thank you.”

You blink at the cyborg for a moment, not quite sure you have heard him correctly. When no more words are forthcoming, you prod at the silence with a questioning hum. Genji shifts in what appears to be exasperation, but casts a sidelong glance at you before emitting what you think could be a resigned sigh.

“Thank you,” he says again. “For working with me through… this.”

Knowing now that you have not misheard, you feel the corner of your mouth quirk up in a small smile. Words like ‘thank you’ are not something you expect to hear from Genji, and they are not something you will likely hear again, what with recent developments. You fully intend to respond, but are stopped short by the breaching of the sun over the water. Your gaze is still directed at Genji, so you bare witness to the sight of black metal taking on a warm, eerie radiance. His dark hair ghosts maroon, and the tubing in his arms seems to almost glow.

When the sunlight glints across his eyes, for a moment they flash pink.

For the first time in a long while, you find yourself stunned by the sight of Genji Shimada.

You have to swallow, if only to be certain that your mouth is not hanging open. You do not want to give the wrong impression, fully aware of the self-esteem issues Genji faces. Rather than addressing the sudden tightness that has taken up residence in your chest, you turn back to the sunrise and lean further back on your hands. “You’re welcome,” you say finally, pleasantly.

The two of you return to the base within the hour, and for a long time, that is the last you see of Genji Shimada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi
> 
> so
> 
> i'm not quite sure how frequently i'm going to update this, but there are definitely more chapters in the works. there are _plans_ for implementing a hanahaki disease plot point, but who even knows where this will go. i certainly don't!
> 
> be prepared for mismatched chapter lengths and the slowest burn of your life, because i don't know how to moderate the pacing of my writing hahaha
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Following the landing of the hover-copter, a large hangar door opens to admit you to the Watchpoint’s interior. It's the only entrance to which civilian pilots have access, but you never used it during your prior time here. New door, new team — it's fitting. Almost as if you are walking into Gibraltar, and by extension _Overwatch_ , for the first time.

You give a quick wave of thanks to the pilot who picked you and your group up. Lena Oxton nods back at you through the windshield as she pulls away, maneuvering the aircraft she calls ‘the Orca’ aside to be properly docked. Whatever you think you've agreed to by deciding to come here, you signed your name to it the moment your foot touched the ground. You don’t know how often Lena — or Tracer, as she herself likes to be called — goes on these little recruitment runs, but you can’t imagine that it’s very often with how low profile this whole operation is supposed to be. Return trips don’t seem like a frequent happenstance.

You suppose you're in it for the long haul, now.

Still, it isn't something you think you mind. Obviously the mounting return of world-wide crisis is a cause for concern, and undoubtedly the reason you were called here, anyway. Russia is turning out to be a bruise the UN _thought_ was healed, and is too afraid to start poking at again. More and more figures are coming out of the woodwork to play doctor to the world, and you can honestly say you did not think you would be one of them.

But you _can't_ say that you aren't excited to see some old faces again. And some new ones, too, apparently.

The chatter of the other two individuals accompanying you begins to echo off the base walls, and you glance over your shoulder to observe the animated gesturing taking place between them. Hana Song and Lùcio Correia dos Santos introduced themselves back on the copter, and despite already knowing their names, you were glad to become formally acquainted with the two. You watch them, taking note of how the pink makeup crinkles around Hana’s eyes when she laughs, how Lùcio’s dreadlocks sway behind him in time to his enthusiastic nodding. You can’t help but smile at the sheer amount of energy they emanate together.

Hana stops snickering long enough to catch you staring, and immediately she swoops forward to swing an arm over your shoulder. “Hey!” she says into your ear, “Seeing as you’re pretty new, too, you probably wouldn’t know much about what’s going on either, would you?” Hana waves her free hand back at Lùcio imploringly, motioning him forward until he comes to join you.

“Yeah,” the musician chimes in. “This is all lookin’ to be pretty cool, but we don’t really know why we’re here, you dig?”

A noncommittal noise bobs in your throat as you realize that you probably know more about the situation than these two would-be agents. Feeling informed is a notion that is relatively unfamiliar to you within the context of Overwatch. You look between the curious gazes of Hana and Lùcio and decide that anything you have to offer them is better than nothing.

“Actually, I used to work for Overwatch, back before it got shut down,” you say. “Just as a mechanic here in Gibraltar. I’m not quite well-versed in this whole ‘recall’ deal, but I know an agent or two. Like Winston, the one who called us all here.”

Lùcio whistles. “I knew we were following you around here for a reason.”

With your little reveal, the conversation becomes nonstop. The three of you move together in a cluster down the hall, and as you shift so does your dialogue. Questions about living on base, interacting with other agents, and rising political tensions soon deviate to more harmless topics, like your taste in music and video games. You have just turned down a corridor that will lead you to command center — where you presume most of the agents will be gathering — when a door slides open up ahead. The click of metal draws your attention away from Lùcio and the headphones he holds, inches from being deposited around your neck.

At the end of the hall, just before the threshold to command, stands a metallic, humanoid figure. It is not unlike an omnic. But as you draw closer, you notice there is something more... _organic_ to its form. Something biotic about the way silver plating slides over corded, synthetic muscle. You realize haltingly that you recognize this particular figure. That recognition stops you in your tracks, freezes you as you watch a set of old blueprints come to life before your eyes.

The figure tilts its head inquisitively in your direction. The simple mannerism is jarringly familiar, enough to affirm your suspicions, but the sound of your name, stretched over a mechanical lilt, is what seals the deal. His voice is oddly compelling to you, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Genji?” you ask incredulously, and your mouth hangs open. You think you feel the hairs rising on the back of your neck.

The ninja simply gives you a polite nod, then turns to enter the command center. Hana and Lùcio, who have been standing next to you in quiet confusion during this brief exchange, toss you questioning looks.

“Who was that?” Hana asks. The makeup on her cheeks is wrinkled again, this time, in what appears to be irritation. “He doesn’t seem very friendly.”

Your mouth still hangs ajar in mild disbelief, and you snap it shut with a _click_ reminiscent of the sound of Genji’s retreating footsteps. You clear your throat to gather your thoughts.

“He’s, uh, a former agent. One of the few that I knew. I shouldn’t be all that surprised to see him, I guess.”

In actuality, you think you should be _more_ surprised.

 

* * *

 

In the time you’ve been away, Winston has turned the command center into a makeshift lab.

Mechanical bits and pieces lay strewn across work benches alongside empty jars of peanut butter and a few banana peels. You spy a few odds-n-ends projects amongst the chaos, which spill bulky cords or security wiring off their perches and onto the floor. The center of the lab, however, has remained relatively clear, and it is here where you gather.

The assembled group is smaller than you expect, because as it turns out, there are a number of agents and recalled hands who have yet to arrive on base. Those of you that _are_ present sit through a quick conference, crowded around a set of screens and piles of hastily arranged data pads. Winston does the brunt of the talking, while Tracer — who came in about ten minutes into the meeting — throws out supplementary and encouraging commentary from his side. You are all given a hasty debriefing on your individual reasons for being here.

You learn that there are a handful of members, both present and prospective, who sport some form of prosthetic or specialty weaponry. These frequently require maintenance and repair, which is best completed with help from a supporting technician. _You_ are to be said technician; this is the part you will play in the newly reformed Overwatch. It is unsurprisingly similar to the one you had before.

The sudden urge to glance across the plastic fold out-table, which has been hastily erected in Winston’s lab, leaves you with your eyes resting on Genji. His not-so-new visor is angled in the direction of the scientist, and one would think that’s where he would be looking. But part of you thinks that underneath the secrecy of that green plexiglass, that maybe, just maybe, he’s returning your gaze out of the corner of his eye.

You mentally berate yourself for allowing more wishful thinking where Genji Shimada is concerned. It’s been over seven years, and you are still looking for friendship where it won’t likely form.

You turn instead to glance at Hana and Lùcio, two people who have taken to you almost as quickly as Genji has dismissed you. They have already made plans to explore Gibraltar after the meeting, and make claims to dorm rooms directly following that. You've been invited to join them, and despite knowing what you already do about the base, the offer is appealing.

The meeting ends, and the people in the room immediately begin to disperse. You observe them all as they either cluster together or sequester off on their own, finally taking tally of individuals you recognize versus those who are still unknown.

Winston and Lena are obvious “knowns”, but there are two bearded men with wildly contrasting heights standing near them who are less so. Familiar maybe, but not people you've personally worked with.

You look to your left, and catch a glimpse of a blonde ponytail sweeping out of the room. Dr. Ziegler isn't necessarily someone you've met in person either, but she is easy enough to peg.

Further off to the side stands a stern looking woman with a tattoo around her eye. She is watching everyone in a manner similar to yourself, and you make a note to approach her later.

Hana and Lùcio catch your focus from the other end of the lab, already halfway out the door and ready to bolt in the name of exploration. You are about to make your way over to them, when someone else draws your attention. Three someones, actually.

Genji isn’t seeking you out, per se, but his path happens to be angled in your direction. Floating ( _floating_ , you tried to ignore it during the meeting, but _wow_ ) to his left is an omnic. A real one this time. You think he must be one of those Shimbali monks, if the clothes he wears are anything to go off of. Another man you vaguely recognize from his visits to Gibraltar also walks with them — Jesse McCree. He wears a cowboy hat and spurs that ring in time to his steps, and they make you notice the absence of Genji’s own metallic clicks.

The three are conversing in pleasant tones, and you hear McCree chuckle once or twice in the short span of their exchange. There is an ease about the entire scene that you don’t usually associate with your mental picture of Genji. Then again, nothing about your mental picture of the man is quite accurate, anymore.

Without warning, Genji looks up at you as they draw closer. The suddenness jolts you, and you stand frozen in place for the second time in an hour.

Presumably while maintaining eye contact, since his visor never shifts direction, Genji bids his two companions farewell, leaving them with a promise to meet up later. McCree acknowledges Genji with a tip of his hat, before he brushes past you and does the same, tossing you a grin and a casual, “Howdy,” as he goes. The omnic is much more formal in his departure; he dips his head in a shallow bow, to which Genji responds with a nod of his own, and the two part ways.

With no one else around, you feel the full weight of the cyborg’s gaze settle on you. No attempts are made to hide behind the mask. Then in one long stride, Genji is standing before you, and all you can really do is blink.

“Um, hi,” you say bluntly.

“Hello,” he greets back, no indication of having noticed how awkward you find this all to be.

“It’s nice to see you again.” A statement, but the way it comes out of your mouth makes it almost sound like a question.

“I could say the same to you,” he responds, surprising you a little with his openness. “I apologize for my abruptness earlier, it was quite rude. The meeting was about to begin, and I wished to speak with Zenyatta before it started.”

“Zenyatta?” you ask. Genji gestures ambiguously behind you. Not at all subtly, you track the light reflecting on his armor.

“My mentor,” he says, which is vague, and then only marginally clarified when he adds, “One of the individuals with whom I was speaking.”

So now you can put a name to a face. Genji’s use of the term ‘mentor’, when paired with this different demeanor of his, already has you holding the-omnic-known-as-Zenyatta in high regard.

“Would you be willing to walk with me?” Genji asks you, still abrupt. But there is something tentative about it, almost prodding. Before you can give a hesitant nod, he appends, “I would like to ‘catch up’, as it were.”

All of this suddenness is going to you an aneurysm.

 _Why not_ , you figure anyways.

You peak over the silver arc of Genji’s shoulder to locate Hana and Lùcio. Apologetically, you shake your head to indicate that you won’t be joining them, but they seem to be one step ahead of you. Hana is already withdrawing from the room with something akin to a pout on her face. You don't get the chance to feel too bad about it though, because you catch Lùcio’s good natured eyeroll and the forgiving dismissal of his hand wave. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder and mouths the word _Later?_ at you, eyebrows raised in question. You nod enthusiastically, and turn back to Genji as the musician leaves the room to go after the gamer.

“Shall we?” you ask.

Genji motions for you to lead the way. The two of you make for the same exit that most of the agents have already taken, leaving the lab empty once again, save for Winston and Lena. You make the executive decision to head towards the dorms. They seem as good a place as any to go; the two of you will have to choose rooms sooner or later, and they are a little ways off from command, giving you more time to talk, if necessary.

“So…” You begin, but quickly trail off. There is no definitive place to start this conversation. You weren’t even expecting a conversation to begin with, really. Genji was never much one for idle talk when you knew him, so you don’t exactly have a cache of old topics to break the ice.

He must sense your internal struggle, because he chuckles. _Chuckles_. “I know this must be quite strange for you,” he says, and you don’t know how, but you can detect a smile in his voice. “We did not speak much during my time here in Gibraltar.”

“I believe, however, that I interacted with you perhaps more than any other individual on this base.”

Here, Genji pauses. You think this may be all he is going to say. Already, he’s probably spoken to you more than he had collectively during your past acquaintance. An exaggeration, but you think it’s warranted. You are only mildly surprised when he sighs deeply, and turns his head to regard you. From the corner of your eye, you watch him back.

Genji continues. “You helped me to adjust during what was a period of constant change and frustration in my life. You treated me with respect and patience, and I often failed to do the same.” Another pause, an inhale. “I did not expect to see you again, but I am glad that I have. It gives me the chance to say ‘thank you.’”

You process what he has said for a moment, still watching him out of your peripheral. The inside of your cheek catches between your teeth as you contemplate. You’ve never held Genji’s standoff-ish behavior from the past against him. The complicated nature of his history makes it unfair to do so. Yet, to have him present you with this acknowledgement, this gratitude, now — you would be lying if you said that it did not warm you just the slightest bit.

A small smile pulls across your lips, and you flick your eyes forward again to watch your progress towards the dorms. “You know, you said the same thing seven years ago.”

More than a chuckle this time. A snort, bordering on an actual laugh. “My apologies,” Genji says lightheartedly. “Would you have prefered that I not say it?”

“No, no,” you quickly assure him. “Though, I do think your speech may be missing something.”

“Oh?” he indulges questioningly. “What would you have me say?”

You turn to him again, a full grin having emerged in light of the teasing atmosphere.

“I would have you call us friends,” you tell him matter-o-factly.

You don’t understand how the tilt of a head can convey so much expression, but Genji agrees to your statement without so much as saying a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! hooray for quick updates, amiright? dunno if i'll be able to keep this pace though
> 
> for those of you with questions about the timeline, i would direct your attention to the blizzard Uprising comic and the blizzardwatch website. five years take place between the fall of overwatch and the recall, and the comic happens at least 2 years before the events in Zürich. 5 + 2 = give or take 7 years
> 
> Jesse McCree is a flirt and Zenyatta is a bro
> 
> Hana and Lùcio are everyone's bros
> 
> next chapter will be more cute stuff, and the chapter after that will probably kick off the hanahaki angst, if i ever get to it
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> (https://comic.playoverwatch.com/en-us/tracer-uprising)  
> (http://blizzardwatch.com/category/overwatch/)


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of the next few months, other agents and hands begin to take up residency in Gibraltar. Rooms fill up quickly, and you are glad you arrived as early as you did, because there are only so many with a view. Your room is on the east end of the compound, and while it can’t be much bigger than a glorified supply closet (larger suites go to senior agents), it has a small, pane-less window that looks out onto the Mediterranean Sea.

You share a connecting lavatory with Hana, who claimed the room next to yours on the very first day. She frequently calls to you through the joint space and invites you over to watch her stream her gaming sessions or to partake in her abundance of Korean snacks. You measure the frequency of your visits with the number of new, foreign treat wrappers that have collected in your garbage can. Lùcio, who lives in the room one down from Hana, is often also present, providing background music to your hang-out sessions and just generally suffusing the atmosphere with good vibes.

The three of you have another meet-up planned for this evening, a bit of down time after an unexpectedly crazy week. ‘New’ Overwatch has really begun to pick up, and others are starting to take notice. Just last week alone, seven agents were dispatched on two different missions. One team returned three days ago, and you’ve been waist deep in repairs to Jesse’s — it’s just Jesse now, you’re on first name basis with almost everyone on the team — arm after a mishap in Budapest. The mission didn’t exactly go _wrong_ , but it didn’t exactly go according to plan, either.

Angela has had her hands full monitoring Lena while Winston works on recalibrating the girl’s chronal accelerator. It’s given the entire team quite the scare, but things seem to be relatively in the clear now. You’ve been assigned prosthetics duty in the meantime, however, leaving Hana to patch up her MEKA mostly on her own. As a result, the number of exotic candy wrappers in your trash has dwindled considerably.

Your session is scheduled for nineteen hundred hours, in Lùcio’s room this time. It’s a little past eighteen hundred right now, giving you enough time to grab a bite in the mess before heading over. You abandon your desk and the work on it without much thought.

The pungent, spicy aroma of eastern food greets your nose when you enter the kitchen. A chart on the wall indicates that today is Satya’s day to cook, which explains why it smells so good. Pots of curry, butter chicken, and tiki masala wait on the stove, and you ladle out little helpings of each before taking your plate over to the dining area.

No one else is currently eating, so the closest table becomes yours, no agents to join or avoid dictating where you sit. You’re about three bites into the curry, just getting properly settled into the silence of the room, when a voice speaks up behind you.

“May I join you?”

You startle. Spoon clatters against plate and curry spatters across table. A quick swivel of your hips in the chair has you making eye contact with a silver-plated abdomen, and you swiftly angle your head upward to compensate for the proximity. You narrow your eyes at Genji’s tilted head, which smacks of thinly-veiled amusement. Living with him these past few months has made him easier to read, but no easier to detect.

“You did that on purpose,” you accuse.

Genji laughs. “What makes you think so?” he asks as he circles around the table to take the seat across from yours.

“Aside from the obvious enjoyment you’re projecting right now?” You point your reclaimed spoon at him threateningly. “Your heels didn’t click as you came in, mr. ninja.”

Genji seems almost taken aback by your observation. He doesn’t respond right away, and something in him whirs.

Finally, “You perceive much, for someone who is not an agent,” he says. “Although, I suppose that is how you have always been.”

You think he must be referring to a conversation the two of you had about a month ago, over your workbench during a rare bout of maintenance on your behalf. With Angela now on base, it is only logical that she performs most of his checkups and repairs. But when Genji came to you with a corroded wire in the crook of his elbow, it was a simple enough fix that you could swap stories while you worked.

A lighthearted exchange had turned unexpectedly deep. Somehow while you were welding coppers, you also ended up revealing your thoughts on him from those seven years ago, the conclusions you had drawn about his past, and why you had been so forgiving. In turn, he shared the brunt of his history with you. Hanamura, his family, the yakuza. Brothers, dragons, death. Being rebuilt from the inside out, until he was as you had known him. Despite the more fantastical qualities of some points, you were not so far off the mark on others.

Your perceptions led you to tread carefully when engaging with Genji in the past — carefully, but also empathetically. Because of them, you had landed yourself a position inside the small parameters of the ninja’s good graces.

You lower your spoon from its accusatory position. Genji’s comment is only just catching up to you, and to avoid the embarrassment that should accompany his disguised compliment, you switch topics. “Have you eaten? I love it when Satya cooks.”

Genji’s body still requires him to eat; and while he has no reservations with joining others in the mess for social purposes, he usually takes his meals in his room, where he can remove his mask in the comfort offered by privacy.

“Ah, yes,” he notes, “I actually came down to return my dishware. The tiki masala was quite good.” He pulls his arms up to rest casually on the table. There is a quizzical undertone to the next noise he makes. Not quite a whir, not quite a hum. Genji turns suddenly to look at the chart taped to the wall behind him, and his noise pitches to something vaguely distressed sounding. Before you can question the nature of such a reaction, he is already swinging to face you again.

“Tomorrow is my day to cook,” he says bluntly, in a tone that could _almost_ be considered abstract horror. A rather undignified snort bubbles past your mouthful of food. The glass of water on the table is your only saving grace, providing suitable cover while you reign in a snicker behind its lip, feigning a casual sip. You would give _anything_ , in this moment, to see what face he’s making under the mask. The sheer amusement you would derive from such a look would be worth its weight in gold.

Such drastic internal bargaining has become more and more frequent on your part, where Genji and his visor are concerned. You miss his _expressions_. This newfound affinity for reading body language is appreciated, but it pales in comparison to what you once could learn about Genji’s state of being from the simple exposure of his eyes. Indifference in the lazy dilation of unfocused synthetic pupils. Tension and irritation in the set of downturned eyebrows. A brief, breathtaking glimpse of peace, reflected back at you through seemingly pink irises.

Your throat is suddenly very dry, and you don’t have to pretend to be drinking the water anymore. The cup moves back to the table, and the smile it reveals is a little tight, but no less amused. Genji receives a humoring look for his troubles, “You make it sound like it’s the end of the world.”

One of his palms turns up from its place on the tabletop and angles at you in supplication. “My cooking is almost more dangerous than my shuriken.”

“You made a perfectly wonderful lasagna last time you had dinner duty!” you provide with a laugh.

Genji merely scoffs, “ _Pre-made oven dinners_ do not count as ‘cooking.’”

You prop an elbow onto the table and rest your chin in your palm, leveling your other hand at him imploringly. “Well, it’s not like you ever had cause to learn,” you say, somewhat cautious about alluding to Genji’s upbringing in the Shimada-gumi. “You didn’t have to cook for yourself when you were younger, and while they may make excellent spiritual mentors, I doubt omnic monks are the best source for acquiring a culinary education.”

Genji makes a very noncommittal sound. “You are not incorrect.”

A beat passes in the conversation while you take another bite of the curry, chewing thoughtfully. An idea comes to mind rather quickly, and you chew on that, too, for a bit, before throwing caution to the wind. “Would you like to learn?” you ask suddenly.

“Learn to cook?” Genji replies with his own questioning tone. You nod, and he leans back in his chair. “I am obviously not opposed to the idea. What did you have in mind?”

Your head bobs casually from side to side as you shrug. “I figured I could help you cook tomorrow,” you propose. “We could ask Athena to look up some beginner recipes, and work through them together. Maybe make it a recurring thing, on the nights when either of us have cooking duty.” Another thought suddenly crosses your mind, and you can feel your lips purse in an effort not to immediately grin. “On one condition, though,” you tack on to the end of your proposal.

“Oh? And what might that be?” Genji affects an air of dubiousness, but you can tell by his tone that he’s interested, as well as amused.

Once again, you point your spoon at him, gesturing to make a deal. “You have to come play video games with Hana, Lùcio, and me after I finish dinner.”

Genji taps his fingers against the table lightly, giving nothing and everything away all at once. His body language indicates that he might be smiling. “Those are high demands, from someone wielding a spoon. But,” he relents with another click of metal digits on the chipwood, “I accept.”

The grin finally makes its way onto your face, and you withdraw your spoon so that you can continue eating; the rest of the meal passes in relative silence, only punctuated by the sounds of your dishes. Genji sits quiet as a statue, a practice that may have bothered you at some point years ago, but that for a while now has just been standard. It's a pleasant sort of stillness.

After the last of your curry is polished off, dishes disposed of, and leftovers have been properly stored away for later consumption, the two of you leave the mess to head for Lùcio’s room.

You pass a few agents on the way, namely Ana and Mei, who both offer smiles and warm greetings. Jelani, the newest hand, also crosses your path, and you can hear even more people socializing vocally from the common space around the corner.

A nostalgic sort of happiness crops up every time you realize just how full of life the base has become again. In the seven years you spent away from Gibraltar, things were quiet — not the good kind of quiet, like what you’ve just experienced with Genji, but the solitary, empty sort. You took the time to work, to further enhance your skills, and check in on family, who you weren't always permitted to see during your initial assignment. For safety reasons, of course. And you had missed them, of course.

But Reinhardt’s bellowing laughter and Zarya’s triumphant yells filter down the hall and remind you that these people are your family, too. A group of boisterous, caring individuals who have made your metaphorical house into a literal home. Leaving the initial team behind had been hard, but if someone asked you to do it again now, even after just a few months, you know it would be near impossible.

Your path deviates from the direction of the common space just before the turn, and Genji trails behind you down another corridor for a short while, until the two of you finally come to a stop outside of Lùcio’s door. You are about to knock, when a gentle touch to your elbow has you looking at Genji in surprise, staying your knuckles before they hit the metal.

“You’re sure that I am welcome?” he asks gently.

Your first instinct is to snort. To you, it’s a silly question. But you reign yourself in before the rude noise can escape, belatedly aware that from Genji’s point of view, it’s a legitimate concern.

The elbow Genji touches presses just slightly into his hand. “For sure,” you say. You try to inject some humor into the conversation as you resume knocking, “Besides, it’s Lùcio’s room, so it’s not like Hana can kick you out or anything-”

“ _What?_ ”

Genji’s mildly horrified sputtering stops as the door opens, any indication of his concern hidden behind his visor. Lùcio stands in the doorway with an arm braced casually against the frame. Unlike Genji, he doesn't have a mask to cover any surprise he might feel at your unexpected tag-along.

But the musician remains rather collected, a slight raise of his eyebrows his only give away. His eyes shift sideways to the room's other occupant, and then back at you in a manner that might be considered sardonic, if you thought the man was capable of such a thing. You look past him and into the room a little sheepishly.

Hana sits on the floor in an oversized hoodie, leaning back against an equally oversized stuffed rabbit that she must have dragged over from her dorm. Her Xbox is jerry-rigged to Lùcio’s television and soft action music pours out of the room from its speakers. She has taken obvious note of the company you’ve brought, because she narrows her eyes at Genji before arching an eyebrow in your direction. You raise one of yours right back and move into the small living space while waving for Genji to come join you. He stands back for a moment, some look of hesitation undoubtedly playing out under his visor.

Lùcio looks between your little standoff in amusement. It lasts all of a second before his gaze settles on Hana, lip quirked in a way that seems to say _C’mon now, really?_ She pouts, but relents with huff of breath and a quick rise and fall of her shoulders. Lùcio smiles at her, then turns to motion at Genji. “C’mon in, bro. Nice to officially share a crib with you.”

Genji chuckles at Lùcio’s little joke. Sometimes you forget that the two of them share a bathroom the same way you and Hana do. The group gets settled, Lùcio on his bed and Hana on her rabbit. You take the spot on the floor next to her, as per usual, and Genji perches rather gingerly beside you.

“Alright, who's first in line to get dragged today?” Hana asks, picking up two controllers and waving one in your general direction. It's only now that you notice she's brought both, and that her gaming headset it uncharacteristically out of sight.

“I thought we were just _watching_ you play today?” you hedge warily. For as good as you are with your hands, you suck at console games, and going up against Hana is always an invitation for even more embarrassment.

“We were,” she agrees, though she also shrugs, “but none of my battle buddies are online right now. I figure if I have to play with noobs, might as well play with noobs I know.” You sigh resignedly and reach for the remote she holds out to you, but another hand beats you to it.

Genji’s silver fingers wrap loosely around the controller arm, and his visor angles towards Hana. “Would you mind if I gave it a try?”

You think an appreciative, if not somewhat taken aback noise escapes you. Genji and video games? Another unexpected thing to add to the list you’ve begun to keep where he is concerned.

Hana purses her lips. You think for a moment that she might yank the controller away, but you know with relative certainty that she isn’t so petty, and you know for a _fact_ that she never backs down from a challenge. Her expression morphs into to a wicked grin.

“You’re on, Inspector Gadget,” the gamer says confidently.

Part of you thinks that Hana is _definitely_ too young to be able to reference _Inspector Gadget_ , while another part of you recognizes that technically, _everyone_ in this room should be too young to really know much about the film. Then a belated, concerned part of you wonders if _Genji_ gets the reference, and if he’ll be upset by it.

But the boot-up sequence of the game plays, and it’s loud and enticing enough to seemingly distract the man from any offense he might feel.

They play three rounds of some first person shooter that you don't recognize. Hana obviously wins them all, but Genji is a surprisingly formidable opponent. With each consecutive defeat, he seems to alter his gameplay style so that he comes closer to a win or at least gets in a good few hits to Hana’s avatar before ultimately going down. In the final round, he actually manages to eliminate her character twice before the time runs out, a few well placed sniper shots scoring him some extra points.

After Genji’s final defeat, the two set their controllers aside. Hana immediately leans forward to eject the disc with one hand and grapples for the its case with the other, and while she pops the cover and fiddles with the game, she gives Genji a simpering look over the case's plastic. “So, you don't _totally_ suck.”

The snort you held back outside Lùcio’s door actually escapes now. “That's quite the compliment, coming from Hana,” you say to Genji. It's subtle, but his body language is radiating smugness. He's quite pleased with how he played. Which reminds you, “I didn't know you played video games.”

A small laugh filters through Genji’s visor. “I was quite fond of them, in my youth, and quite adept, too,” he says.

Hana hums challengingly. “Adept is a strong word, but,” here she looks at Genji, “you're definitely someone I wouldn't mind playing against, or _with,_ again sometime.”

Externally, the matter drops after that. Hana unplugs her Xbox and Lùcio moves in to hook up one of his DJ rigs so that he can play a sample of one of his newest songs for the three of you. Internally, however, your thoughts are still preoccupied by what has just happened, and affection swarms you. In all the time you've known her, Hana has never expressed much of a fondness for Genji; her omission about his game skills may as well have been code for _I accept you_. Your friends, under this unspoken code, seem to have gotten along in the span of an afternoon. It is unexpected, but you're glad for it.

The four of you get comfortable again, and relax while Lùcio spins his music. If Genji presses into you the tiniest bit while leaning over to examine the portable turntable, you don't say anything about it.

You can't think of a better way to spend your downtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would speak a lot of words but it's almost 1 a.m. and i'm a little too tired to do much of anything at the moment
> 
> i'll write more significant chapter notes tomorrow when more people (including myself. especially myself) are awake to read them
> 
> goodnight y'all, i hope you enjoyed it


End file.
